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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872935">General Shenanigans</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_ten_it/pseuds/id_ten_it'>id_ten_it</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biggles Series - W. E. Johns, Blackadder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aeroplanes, Airplanes, Crossover, France (Country), Gen, King and Country (magazine), RFC, The great soldier's drag act, World War I</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:08:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_ten_it/pseuds/id_ten_it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Flasheart was posted near 266 Squadron?<br/>What if Biggles was so frustrated he decided to use Algy as a honeytrap?<br/>What if Blackadder and Darling were there too?</p>
<p>Shenanigans, obviously. General Shenanigans.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>General Shenanigans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>With especial thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/positively_dashed/pseuds/003chan">003chan</a> who came up with the idea, beta'd, and told me to post the thing. All mistakes are mine, all hilarity is hers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Biggles strode into the mess with a face like thunder, snatching up a brandy and glowering at the assembled officers as though they had personally insulted him.<br/>“Anyone heard anything about this new chap next door?” He spat.<br/>Major Mullen, sprawled inelegantly on an old armchair and doing battle with a fountain pen and poor-quality paper, looked up. “So you’ve finally met him have you?” He inquired with deceptive calm. The other men, used to their COs tone, looked significantly more interested. Algy went as far as to stop tinkering about with the piano with The Professor.</p>
<p>“Met him?” Biggles shot back, “Met him? I should bally well say I’ve met him! Who does he think he is? Leaping about the place like a demented peacock. Damn near cut me off from the ground here, then wriggled his fingers like it was nothing and carried on his merry way. Met him! If I meet him in person he’d better watch out.”<br/>“Not too fond of flash stunts eh, Biggles?” Mullen drawled, collecting a small wave of smiles. “I should have thought you’d get on well, he’s a bally good pilot for all he’s shooting about the place. Flash by name, flash by nature, you could say.”<br/>“I shouldn’t mind it if he stayed out of my bally way.” Biggles retorted, returning for a second drink. In truth, he had come back from a patrol with significant damage to his camel and being repeatedly cut off from the airfield had worried him more than he liked to admit. It was more normal for damaged aircraft to be given a wide berth, but apparently the other pilot was not a traditionalist.</p>
<p><br/>Mullen rolled his eyes fondly and addressed the room at large, “They’re overdue a visit anyway chaps” He reminded the men, “Go ahead and organise yourselves a visiting party.” Checking his watch he tutted to himself, “I’ve got a meeting with the brass” He added, “Don’t have too much fun without me.” Gathering paper, pen, and tea, he headed off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next Friday, having followed Mullen’s direction, around half the squadron paid a call on their neighbours. Biggles, his Camel now back into fighting form, led the charge. In a series of hedge-hops and stealth approaches, the six aircraft made their way to the other airfield, confident they had not been seen. Their most junior officer – a clerk by the name of Harris – had gone ahead earlier in the afternoon. He had talked himself into the Ops room on an administrative pretext and kept the men there talking for some time. Long enough, in fact, that he’d been invited to tea. It was as they were moving to the Mess that he had snuck away and called up the 266, telling Algy that 259 would be out on patrol between three and five that afternoon and with the prevailing winds would be sure to cross over the main road to Maranique. The information was good. The six Camels loitered, hidden, near the approach to the airfield. It wasn’t long before their keen eyes saw the other RFC planes returning triumphant from a patrol. Biggles was pleased to note none of the kites were badly damaged. He obviously didn’t want fellow Britons to be hurt but more to the point he did not want to cause further damage to a really injured pilot. Luckily this was not a concern.</p>
<p>Right on cue, the six Camels converged, rising out of the ground like rocketing pheasants, climbing in a series of dizzying turns and flashes of colour. Flasheart’s patrol checked their progress, clearly surprised and startled. As their two Camels passed each other in the climb, Biggles noted Algy grinning widely, lips parted in what he suspected was song.</p>
<p>Following their plan, the Camels began a playful intercept. They were not as fast in the straight as the S.E. 5 but their lightning-speed right turns and seamless formation flying more than made up for that. The other three planes struggled to get closer to the airfield. <br/>The nine RFC planes dodged and feinted, putting on a show that was soon drawing spectators on the ground. <br/>Algy climbed higher to take over watch duty from The Professor, who promptly sunk like a stone to join in the fun. This watch duty was their one concession to the Germans; none of them had any desire to fall prey to an enemy bullet although this far from the lines the chances were slim. Eventually the three S.E. 5s made it through the Camel blockade and landed. After some gesticulating from the ground, answered by insolent wing-waggling, the Camels flew away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night was a raucous one in the Mess. Inspired re-interpretations of the ‘battle’ were enjoyed by one and all. Harris was feted as a key component of their success, and promptly drank as much as he desired ‘on the house’. The other pilots laughed and joined in the fun, secretly wishing they had been part of it. Major Mullen watched on with a benevolent eye, glad to see his men relaxing. <br/>Morale remained high for several days to the point where nightly jaunts to Maranique were becoming standard. On one such occasion, Biggles, Algy, and Mullen were strolling along the shortcut from the café the pilots habitually dined at to the open field that had become a park for the battered transport trucks they were using, when loud voices could be heard from a nearby alleyway.</p>
<p>“Leave it,” Mullen advised, continuing to walk on. He was far from heartless but, Biggles knew, had seen more than one simple disagreement turn into a brawl through untimely intervention. Algy, lacking the same experience, lagged behind. As the voices grew closer it became increasingly obvious that one was English and another a woman’s, and Algy broke from the others to step closer. He probably would have rushed to give assistance if the two figures hadn’t tumbled into the fitfully-lit lane at that very moment. A furious woman clad in the distinctive finery of a professional lady had an aviator by his ear and was telling him (in short, voluble, phrases that she translated for his benefit) exactly what he had done wrong. The three pilots melted against the nearest wall to watch.</p>
<p>“You do not pay! You are filthy! You imagine because you are from the England that you are the gift from the good god but this is not so, eh? You are just another man who makes the promises! You make my girls unhappy! You smell always of the castor-oil!” The tirade continued, bi-lingually.<br/>Mullen leaned over and very quietly murmured, “That’s the chap that caused all the issues for you Biggles.”<br/>“What? Flasheart?!” <br/>“Absolutely. Quite the ladies’ man or so he always styles himself. Seems that maybe the ladies don’t agree though.”<br/>Algy shoved his fist in his mouth, barely supressing giggles as Flasheart’s further…shortcomings…were discussed. As the lady outlined the myriad ways he would never please a woman, Mullen dragged the other two even further into the gloom. “You’ll give the game away” he complained to Algy, shoving a filthy handkerchief into his hands so Algy could use it to stifle his own considerable laughter. Biggles was smirking too, but not for the same reasons. He fancied he had seen what Flasheart’s greatest weakness was. In the time it had taken for Mullen to drag them completely out of the way the unfortunate Flash’s reaction had gone from vaguely amused to visibly affected. “Girls” Biggles murmured to himself, “It all comes down to girls.” <br/>This unexpected pronouncement saw his companions nearly spraining their necks to stare at him in astonishment. “Only thinking about Flasheart” Biggles soothed them, “Never you worry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***<br/><br/></p>
<p>The next morning they were still smiling. When dawn patrol landed they were greeted at breakfast with cheers and grins; the Saints were hosting a dance! Immediately, the more enthusiastic men saw an opportunity to lay the 259 issue to rest among an unsuspecting public. With their ties to St Omer, 16 Squadron was sure to be on their side. Many of the men who had made the move months before continued to keep in touch with their old contacts several miles away.</p>
<p>Biggles was preparing for his afternoon flight when Harris came out looking a little sheepish. “Afternoon” Biggles greeted him, looking up from his ammunition.<br/>“Afternoon Biggles” Harris returned, running one hand around his neck. “I…I got a message for you.” Biggles regarded him sharply although he took the note. Harris was clearly nervous, with high spots of colour on his cheeks under the learning-to-shave nicks. “Thank you.” He turned to read it then added, “Hang about. There may be a reply.”<br/>Harris obediently hung, though he had already read the note and suspected the reply would not be a simple matter.</p>
<p>“You’ve read this?” Biggles asked, looking up at the poor clerk.<br/>“It was ‘phoned through. I took it down.” <br/>“What do you think?”<br/>Harris leant against the tool bench, regarding Biggles thoughtfully. “I think you should give him a fright he won’t forget for a while. That other stuff, the flying, that was just doing to Flash what Flash did to you. This attempt to send you haring off to HQ and talking to General Melchett is quite another thing. I hear Melchett is an idiot but he hasn’t a sense of humour. He’d get your court martialled for trying something like this.”<br/>“Flash <em>did</em> make it out of the lines. He’s telling the truth there, I remember it being written up in <em>King and Country.</em>”<br/>Harris looked surprised, as well he might. “I didn’t know you read <em>King and Country</em>, Biggles.”<br/>“I don’t, as a rule. I was lighting the fire in my room and some of it was left over.” They shared a dour smile. “Be that as it may” Biggles continued, “I’m not toiling up to Melchett’s to be a prize to be shot at by some firing squad.”<br/>Harris grinned, “I can’t see it working on you. How about we get Flash in on the dance and then you come in later and confront him? He can’t do much in public and it will teach him not to mess with the 266.”<br/>“I like the idea.” Biggles nodded, “I’ll have a think.” His next reply was interrupted by a vigorous wave from outside the hangar by Smyth, his ack-emma. “I’d best be off. Thanks Harris. See you at dinner then.” Leaving his ammunition ready, Biggles strode off, a slight but determined figure in the golden afternoon light. Left alone, Harris took up the note, laughed soundlessly, and returned to the office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Patrol complete, Biggles strolled over to Algy’s Camel. The younger man was frowning at a series of bullet holes in the canvas, some of which were a little too close to the pilot seat to be entirely comfortable. “Trouble?” Biggles asked laconically.<br/>Algy withdrew his finger from a hole and rolled his eyes. “Nothing a turn or two couldn’t handle. Thanks for getting the blighter.”<br/>“Only scared him off.” Biggles returned. They regarded the holes for a while then Biggles cleared his throat. “I say. This dance thingummy. Thinking of going?”<br/>Algy lit up like flares over the lines. “Absolutely! Damn good idea. Why?” <br/>“There’s something I’d like you to do.” Biggles drew Algy away to the Mess where they sat and talked for some time. A keen observer would have noted not only the gales of laughter coming from the pair, but the way Algy went from listening to apparently offering his own ideas. After dinner the pair of pilots approached Harris, asking for his assistance and letting him in on the plan. By that Thursday, all was set.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Flash whistled as he watched his Batman put an extra polish on his Sam Brown. Lounging in the deep armchair in front of his sitting-room fire, he felt that all was well with the world. Jeanette could be heard in the bedroom, replacing the linens and doing whatever little services she did when he was not directly employing her. He blew the perfect smoke ring, watching it slowly dissipate against the clear glass of the chateau. Tonight was a dance night, and there were not only the usual ladies from town visiting but apparently some fresh-faced nurses as well. Flash had heard they were over to help a senior officer back to England, and from the faces Jeanette and her friends had pulled when asked what they were like, he would find the nurses particularly…English…topics of seduction.<br/>It was nice to have a proper test of his abilities.</p>
<p>Some little time later, resplendent in an immaculate uniform, Major Flasheart, RFC, terror of the ladies, strode into the 16 Squadron Mess. Much of his pleasure was anticipation at the ladies who were sure to appear, but some was reserved for the hope of hearing that the idiot Bigglesworth, who had made him skid his kite into a rough landing that had caused laughter among the enlisted, was to be interrogated by Melchett. With any luck that other twitching fool would be there as well and Bigglesworth would be mired in incompetence. Flash bared his teeth and found himself a spot near the drinks table, ready to select a target and pounce.</p>
<p>He was three whiskies and two French ladies down when there was a stir at the dance floor and a young man appeared leading a woman who could only be an English Nurse. She was fresh-faced, hair demurely rolled in a chignon, shod in sensible brogues, with only her fine ankles visible under the long crisp skirt. Flash watched, entranced, as she allowed her companion to remove her cape. Her warm eyes twinkled at the lucky man as he reverently lay it with his hat and her cap. She glanced over at the drinks in answer to a question, nodding at the Officer and barely noting Flasheart. He felt her glance pass over him like he was of less interest than plain water; he bristled. Soon she was ensconced in the most comfortable seat, a small glass of wine in her fine-boned yet competent hand, knees demurely together and feet tucked out of sight. She talked quietly with her companion and allowed some other men to speak with her too, but if Flash was any judge of women she wouldn’t expect to be going home tonight for a spot of slap-and-tickle.</p>
<p>She clearly hadn’t met Lord Flasheart yet!</p>
<p>Flasheart danced with four or five more local French ladies, swinging – if he said so himself – quite the tidy shoe. He laughed and smiled and consistently moved his way closer and closer to the lady in question. Through judicious questioning it was discovered the man she had arrived with was called Harris, the adjutant for the airfield next door. Watching for his moment, Flash saw Harris be momentarily distracted by a request for a drink. Seizing the opening he slipped over, glass of alcoholic punch in one hand. <br/>“Good Evening Miss.” He smiled, offering her the glass, “I couldn’t help notice you are lacking a drink. Allow me.” <br/>There was a flash of something…intriguing…in her dark eyes as she accepted the offering. Flash took the offer of a seat without breaking eye contact. The lady took a small sip, just like the society ladies Flash was used to at home. If he had learnt anything from them it was that the appetites were inverse – a repressed sipper-of-drinks was likely to be eager for other things. It was with difficulty that he managed to not lick his lips in anticipation.</p>
<p>“This is very kind of you Major.” The lady simpered, dropping her gaze. Perhaps he had held it a little long for this early in the process. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name” She added. The way she kept dropping her eyes under long, curling, lashes was quite enchanting. <br/>“Flasheart” He smiled, giving her a seated bow. She seemed like the kind of lady that appreciated such things. “Pleased to meet you. I heard you were here to escort a senior officer back to England?” <br/>“That’s right. Nurse Johnstone. But” She gave an affected little laugh, “You can’t be standing on ceremony with having already brought me a drink! You must call me Constance.” <br/>“Constance Johnstone” This was a dance Flash was familiar with, “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”<br/>“I’m sure you say that to all the ladies.” She smiled. If Flash were a suspicious man he would take exception to that, but there seemed nothing but admiration in her gaze as she looked at his uniform. “Do tell me about all your ribbons, Major Flasheart.”<br/>“You could call me Richard if I am to call you Constance. It would be an honour.”<br/>“Then tell me about all your ribbons, Richard.” <br/>This was another familiar step. He was halfway through an entirely improbable tale regarding an orphanage when Harris returned with drinks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Algy would say later that Harris performed an excellent act of a frustrated man returning to find his girl being chatted up by a handsome pilot. It certainly seemed to convince Flash that he was getting the field to himself. He barely even nodded when Harris, in a ‘fit of pique’, left to sulk in a corner. Constance continued to simper at Richard. Eventually she let him take her for a dance, although she demurred at joining in the more sporting versions that had become the norm along the RFC Messes.</p>
<p>“I couldn’t possibly jump about so.” She demurred, “It would be too unladylike.” <br/>“I’m sure you couldn’t do anything unladylike” He attempted, and then, “Do, please, Constance.”<br/>“Perhaps in a little while.” By touching an elegant hand to her chignon she managed to suggest that a vigorous dance might result in hair tumbling all over the place; the image of the fair Constance with hair lose around her shoulders and bounding vigorously around the place threw Flash into quite the tizz. Still, he managed to keep himself partly under control and was proud that he had yet to disgrace himself. It was becoming quite the close run thing. <br/>They returned, after their dance, to the nook of chairs, Flash again bringing her another drink. “Oh thank you” Constance dimpled – she had dimples! – “Could you hold that for me please? I must just speak with one of the girls.” With one smooth motion she stood and glided off towards the lavatories. Flash was left standing watching her go and wondering how he had got so lucky. The main target of tonight had basically fallen into his lap. Now all he had to do was cinch the deal. Woof.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Algy, meanwhile, had hurried around the back of the building, letting loose a most unladylike howl of laughter and lighting up a cigarette. Harris joined him. “Reckon he’s fallen for you, <em>Constance</em>” He grinned.<br/>“Still think Algyiana would be better. The whole idea is ridiculous.” Algy retorted, gamely handing over his lighter and a smoke. “He doesn’t strike me as the sort of chap that thinks with his brain. We’d get away with it.”<br/>“As your current boyfriend I object to being seen as the sort of fellow that falls head over heels for a chit called <em>Algyiana</em>.”<br/>“I am not a chit!”<br/>“I am not a mindless buffoon!” They huffed laughs, until Harris remembered what he had to say. “Biggles rang through about half an hour ago. He’s getting a lift out here in a staff car. He ended up going to HQ on orders tonight anyway and ran into a fellow who Flash upset one too many times. <em>Darling</em>.”<br/>“I didn’t know you cared.” ‘Constance’ simpered.<br/>“Not you. This fellow. Captain Darling. Reckons it won’t take long to get here; apparently the driver has plenty of spunk.” In fact as Harris finished speaking a well-maintained car engine could be heard purring towards them.<br/>“Might be them now.” Algy suggested, languidly taking a final couple puffs. “Does my lipstick look a fright?”<br/>“You’re the belle of the ball. Remember, when the time comes give it plenty of oomph.”<br/>“I’ll knock their socks off.” Algy grinned, tossing the butt into the sorry excuse for a garden and trotting inside. As he entered the main hall, he plastered a sickly smile onto his young features, returning to Flasheart with a simper. “Another drink? I really shouldn’t.” But she did, having long since moved on from ginger beer.</p>
<p>Harris, still outside, meandered around the front just in time to see Biggles hop out of a staff car, followed by two Captains. He could see by the tabs that one was a clerk, one an infantry officer. Knowing where Darling worked, he wondered who the infantry officer was. Biggles certainly had a knack for picking people up!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Evening Harris” Biggles was at his most official. “Captain Darling, Captain Blackadder, this is Captain Harris. He’s our squadron adjutant.” <br/>“Evening” Harris shook hands all round. “Nurse Johnstone has just gone back inside, Biggles. We thought that was you arriving. Nice car you’ve got.” He added to the other two. Darling twitched at a far off rumble, but Blackadder just smirked and headed towards the door. “Only the best for the General” He sneered. “This where the pompous git is? Excellent. Drink, Darling? I’m as parched as a Nun’s nickers.” <br/>Biggles shrugged at Harris and the four men trooped in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If they’d wanted to make a bigger impression, Algy reflected later, he wasn’t sure how they could manage it. Flash was sitting looking away from the door so Algy didn’t turn his attention to the newcomers until they were arranged along the bar. He didn’t recognise the other two but if they were with Biggles then they were obviously meant to be there. With a ladylike start and widening eyes, Constance clasped one gloved hand over her lips – remembering to mind her makeup – and whispered, “Who are those men, Richard?” <br/>The effect was instantaneous. Flash turned, half-rose, and his face took on a stunned look not unusual for stunned mullets or men under heavy fire. “Bigglesworth?!” Flash whispered. Then, “Slackbladder?” Followed by a yelped, “Darling?!” <br/>“Hello Flasheart” The man he had named Slackbladder drawled, “I see you have an arm full of willing bint as usual. I’m surprised to see you here though, I’d have thought after last week you’d be about as welcome as a Frenchman in this Mess.” <br/>“How dare you speak about Nurse Johnstone like that? She is an English Rose.”<br/>“I’ve always found roses full of pricks.” The other man drawled, and Biggles caught Algy’s eye and winked. Constance held her hand over her chin again hoping it looked like he was covering shock and not laughter. <br/>“You just need to know how to handle them.” Flash retorted, solicitously assisting Constance in sitting again and quite clearly enjoying a bit of a feel while he was at it.</p>
<p>“We haven’t been introduced.” Biggles interrupted, stepping smoothly forward to where his friend was seated. Perhaps he was concerned Flash would degenerate into further groping the other pilot, perhaps he was concerned his friend would dissolve into helpless laughter and pop a rib. “Captain James Bigglesworth, 266 Squadron. We’re based just out of Maranique. These are Captain Edmund Blackadder, Cambridgeshire Regiment, and Captain Kevin Darling, from Headquarters.”</p>
<p>Constance beamed and allowed the men to press her hand. “A pleasure. Constance Johnstone. You are so lucky, able to work with Richard, James. He’s been telling me all about flying.” <br/>Algy, Biggles reflected sourly, had only got better at looking like butter wouldn’t melt. He was gathering his wits when Blackadder intervened.<br/><br/>“Very lucky. We can always count on him to cheer us up when things get too much. Sheer morale. Like having an executioner to put you out of the misery of toothache.” Blackadder took Constance’s empty glass, muttered something, and ducked off. Darling crossed his arms at the Mess door slamming shut. <br/>“I’ve seen…Richard…fly.” Biggles allowed in response to a pointed look from Algy. He had the air of someone distractedly seeking to rescue a conversation. “It is a striking sight.”<br/>Algy pressed further into the side of his chair, gently nudging his companion’s fingers from his knee and hoping it would be over soon. <br/>“Rather like himself.” Darling tried desperately. <br/>“You did get down alright though.” Flash interrupted, letting his hand rest next to Constance’s knee rather than on it. “Good flying all round I thought.”</p>
<p>Blackadder interrupted Darling before he could complete his next twitch. “It’s just the door.” He muttered, holding out a tray of drinks. There was a bottle of wine somehow stashed under his chair now, Biggles noted. “I was in the RFC once.” Blackadder continued blithely, “Decided I had too much honour to be sitting around all day and went back to the lines.”</p>
<p>The statement was so patently untrue that Darling nearly choked on his drink and Biggles wasn’t even vaguely annoyed at this misrepresentation of RFC life. Even Algy, who had been unprepared for Operation Humiliate Flasheart was clearly amused behind his veneer of nurse. “I always thought pilots were so very <em>brave</em>.” Constance managed to choke out, flashing her dimples. <br/>“Oh hugely brave.” Blackadder agreed knowledgably, “Broken fingernails are a constant concern. As you are a medical woman I feel I can also mention flat-bottom, an unfortunate state the older pilot achieves from the aforementioned sitting. Rather ruins the cut of the trouser. Its why they all look like they have new uniforms on. Only thing they can do to disguise the pancake effect.”<br/>Flash fingered his immaculately tailored, new-looking uniform with a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous, Slackbladder” he rallied, preening his moustache and dropping a filthy wink at Constance, “My uniform’s so smart it has a degree from Oxford!”<br/>Biggles smirked into his drink. <br/>“You said Cambridge last time.” Blackadder retorted, “I’d have thought a man with so much university education it seeps into his uniform like mud from the bottom of the trench would be able to recall where he went.”<br/>Flasheart coughed and squirmed. He stroked his moustache again and glared at Blackadder as though the man had single-handedly been responsible for the cancellation of a weekend’s leave in Paris. “As it happens the last college I was at was Sandhurst. Perhaps you ‘buy-a-commission’ types won’t recall but its where the best and brightest get sent before marching out to the war.”<br/>“Ah yes. Didn’t General Melchett go to Sandhurst, Darling?”<br/>Darling nodded dumbly at Blackadder, annoyed and impressed in equal measure at the other man’s wordplay and wit. <br/>“Yes. Sandhurst. Prepares a man for sitting at a desk issuing orders and drinking copious amounts of port. Couldn’t do it myself, more one for the action of actual combat you know.”<br/>“But you’re always going over enemy lines.” Constance frowned, looking at Flash in a way that had even Biggles blinking. <br/>Flash cleared his throat. “Oh yes. Got to defend England and all that.”<br/>“Oh yes.” Blackadder agreed, “Sometimes the wind’s too strong to skive off back to Blighty and he has to visit his Sister.”<br/>“His sister?”<br/>“The nun. As in gives him nun.”<br/>“Really Blackadder!” Flash was up in a trice, “Not only is that untrue but it’s entirely inappropriate to talk like that in front of a lady! Come along Constance.” He held out a hand for Algy’s, running the other almost to her shoulder. Algy looked faintly revolted. Darling looked gratefully at Blackadder.</p>
<p>“No.” Algy said eventually, “I don’t think I will. Really <em>Flasheart,</em> if that’s how you treat your women I’d rather hear all about the unfortunate side-effects of castor oil.” And to Flash’s great astonishment, Algy pulled off his wig, letting shorter curls escape, then grabbed up his handkerchief and rubbed furiously at the stuff on his face.  </p>
<p>“I…I don’t understand,” Flash whined, “You’re not a woman!”<br/>“Not at all,” Algy agreed cheerfully, laying wig, false ear-rings, and the filthy handkerchief on the floor next to his seat, “Just a fellow pilot who’s had more than enough of you tooling around the place ruining the peace.”<br/>Even Darling joined in the Mess wide laughter that followed. Biggles leant into Flasheart’s face and hissed a general warning against flying ‘like a bull in a china shop’ and a surprisingly heated warning about minding his hands when touching women of any kind and English nurses in particular. Surprised, Flash shrunk back. <br/>“Tooling is about right” Blackadder remarked to a twitching Darling, “I’m surprised the Germans aren’t paying him he is so completely incompetent.”</p>
<p>Flasheart, flushed and with a drooping moustache, towered over the seated soldiers. “You had better not mention this, Slackbladder.”<br/>“I wouldn’t.” Blackadder returned evenly, “Wouldn’t want Melchett to start hunting around for another gorgeous Georgina and find her outside my own company. Then who’d get to eat all the chocolates and drink all the champagne he sends her?” <br/>Flash leant threateningly over Blackadder. The latter smirked and stretched out his legs in an impressive, and apparently sincere, display of <em>sang-froid</em>. “You had better not mention this, Slackbladder, or I shall make things <em>very</em> hard for you.”<br/>Blackadder raised one eyebrow and winked. “If that’s as hard as you can make it for Constance I dread to think what the other poor maidens are experiencing.” <br/>“You know what I mean! I’ll thrust you into danger. You’ll find danger pricking at your heels. Beating you down.”<br/>Even Darling was spluttering at this stage. Blackadder managed to drawl, “Something you’re not telling us, Flasheart?” before the man in question stormed off, the sounds of jeering following him from the mess.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After Flash had stormed off, the five men sank into the chairs; Harris obtained a bottle of brandy and Blackadder poured healthy slugs all round. “Oh thank goodness.” Algy gasped, emptying half the glass in one go, “That punch is like drinking pure sugar. I don’t know how women do it.”<br/>Biggles passed him a lit cigarette, rolling his eyes at Algy’s antics. <br/>Blackadder also downed most of his glass, but then ensured there was a further top up for all. “I haven’t seen a man run like that since Baldrick threatened to change his trousers.” <br/>Darling hid a smile in his drink, remembering the day in question very well.<br/>“I’m not surprised he ran.” Harris smirked, “The way he’d been snuggling up to ‘Constance’ he must have known people would draw some conclusions about what sort of people he likes.”<br/>Algy shifted, comically. “I’m not surprised women hit chaps like him when they’re on long train rides” he agreed, “It was like tussling with an octopus.”<br/>“Imagine being smitten with a chap though.” Harris continued, pulling a disgusted face.<br/>“Imagine.” Darling murmured, bland around his mouthful of brandy. <br/>“Terrible” Blackadder agreed, “Such a flaw might make the rest of us think him less than a civilised man. Of course the proof of being civilised enough to spend three years shooting other men might help keep his reputation intact.”<br/>“I should think so.” Darling returned, relishing their banter, “Nothing shows a chaps manliness like fighting a bunch of similarly trained men.”<br/>“After all we aren’t wasting resources on pathetic savages who pose no threat.” Harris added blithely.<br/>“Not at all” Blackadder agreed deadpan. He dropped Darling a smirk as soon as Harris looked away, causing Darling to take another gulp of brandy. Algy, who had finished his first cigarette and was just relaxing, stretched in his chair. This caused some distraction and he was glad to answer the few questions from his friends – new and old – before slipping away to change into his usual trousers and shirt. Returning dressed once more as properly in uniform as he ever managed to be, he looked around the dwindling numbers and suggested they all head back.</p>
<p>“Absolutely” Darling agreed, standing, “You don’t need a lift, chaps?”<br/>“We’ll manage. Thanks for coming along.” Biggles returned, shaking hands. “Jolly good of you.”<br/>“Jolly good show.” Blackadder retorted, “Any time you’re going to take Flash down a peg or two, you let me know.”<br/>“And me.” Darling added, shaking Harris’ and Algy’s hands as well.<br/>“Oh yes and him.” Blackadder agreed carelessly. “Try not to get shot. Bye!” He drove off, Darling clinging to the seat next to him.</p>
<p>The next morning, when they eventually returned the car, Blackadder pointed to their tousled uniforms and state of semi-dress to explain the mechanical difficulties experienced driving a few miles on good roads between GHQ and The Saints’ dance. Melchett merely grumbled and instructed Bob to ensure the car was fully serviceable in time for the afternoon’s meeting with Haig’s general staff.</p>
<p><br/>“Bye!” Harris jumped in the driving seat, Algy and Biggles in the back, and the three airmen returned to their airfield. Algy returned the dress to the Mess prop room, and the three of them provided much entertainment the next night by re-enacting the whole hilarious shenanigans.</p>
<p>And Flasheart? There were several days when the women of western France were left wondering at their change in circumstances. Then Jeanette dressed him in his best uniform and shoved him into the transport one night, apparently sick of having him all to himself. Within a week, the short break in activities had been forgotten and general service resumed.</p>
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